Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 111 and wore a red ribbon with some sort of a medal upon it
on his neck. There is no need to speak of the artisans and
the peasants. The artisans of Skotoprigonyevsk are almost
peasants, and even work on the land. Two of them also wore
European dress, and, perhaps for that reason, were dirtier
and more uninviting-looking than the others. So that one
might well wonder, as I did as soon as I had looked at them,
‘what men like that could possibly make of such a case?’ Yet
their faces made a strangely imposing, almost menacing,
impression; they were stern and frowning.
At last the President opened the case of the murder of
Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov. I don’t quite remember how
he described him. The court usher was told to bring in the
prisoner, and Mitya made his appearance. There was a hush
through the court. One could have heard a fly. I don’t know
how it was with others, but Mitya made a most unfavour-
able impression on me. He looked an awful dandy in a
brand-new frock-coat. I heard afterwards that he had or-
dered it in Moscow expressly for the occasion from his own
tailor, who had his measure. He wore immaculate black kid
gloves and exquisite linen. He walked in with his yard-long
strides, looking stiffly straight in front of him, and sat down
in his place with a most unperturbed air.
At the same moment the counsel for defence, the cele-
brated Fetyukovitch, entered, and a sort of subdued hum
passed through the court. He was a tall, spare man, with
long thin legs, with extremely long, thin, pale fingers, clean-
shaven face, demurely brushed, rather short hair, and thin
lips that were at times curved into something between a